


Green-Eyed Monster

by SilverBirchStudio



Category: Inspector Lynley - All Media Types, Inspector Lynley Mysteries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-06-19 19:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15516618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBirchStudio/pseuds/SilverBirchStudio
Summary: Barbara Havers suddenly has a social life, and Lynley isn’t happy about it, not one little bit!





	1. One

I've never read the Elizabeth George books (Tommy as a blond?!) but I am a huge fan of the BBC series, and I have borrowed the characters to play with just for fun and no profit to myself. I promise to return them unharmed...I hope you enjoy!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He knew she was there before he saw her. He could feel her in the room, somehow, as though he had a special internal radar just for her, set off by her presence. His eyes scanned the room, searching for her, but he heard her first, the clear crystalline tone of her laugh carrying over the dozens of conversations happening in the crowded restaurant.

Her laughter allowed him to zero in on her location. She was smiling at the man seated across from her, her red-gold hair glowing in the light, head thrown back, throat exposed. Flirtatious, and he had not thought Barbara Havers capable of that behaviour. It made him angry, although he could not for the life of him explain why.

“Tommy, are you feeling all right? You seem...a bit distracted.”

Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley focused his eyes back on the beautiful face across from him. She had been a model in her twenties, and she was still stunning now, with classic bone structure and any fine lines that might have appeared since then hidden by the romantic lighting in this expensive restaurant. 

“Sorry, Caroline. It’s been a rough few days at work. I suppose I’m a bit tired.”

“We can go if you like —”

“No, no. I’ve been wanting to try this place out, and you went to all the trouble of getting reservations.” He smiled at his date to emphasize his words, although the expression didn’t really reach all the way up to his eyes.

“Yes, I had to call in a few favors. Amazing what a brand new Michelin star can do! Still, it convinced you to accept my invitation. I’ll be back in a moment. I need to freshen up.” Caroline reached out and squeezed his hand briefly before she stepped away. 

He stood politely as she rose, but Tommy’s attention snapped back to his sergeant almost immediately. Havers was still smiling, leaning in now, tucking her hair behind her ear. Damn her, she was in actual fact flirting, and it infuriated him. Hot anger burned in his chest, and he knew it was irrational, which only fanned the flame.

He stared at Barbara intently, as though through sheer force of will he could make her notice him. It seemed impossible to him that he could be so aware of her, as if every cell in his body was attuned to her, while she did not even realize he was in the room. His fingers tapped at the table in annoyance, and he drained his glass, not giving the unpeated Bruichladdich single malt even one tenth of the attention it deserved.

Barbara and her companion were apparently finished with their meal, because they rose to leave as Caroline returned from the ladies’ room. Tommy resettled his date in her chair, but his eyes were glued to his partner. He gritted his teeth as he watched Havers’ date place a hand on the small of her back to guide her out of the restaurant. 

The familiarity of the gesture and his own, yes, he had to admit it, jealousy, ruined the evening for him, despite the talents of the hottest young chef in London, and his date’s efforts to draw him out. The smoked quail and baby artichokes were exceptional, but his mind was elsewhere, and Caroline was well aware of it.

“I think we’ll skip dessert, don’t you?” she asked. “And call it an evening?”

He winced at her tone, realizing he had been a terrible dinner companion. “I’m sorry. Things at work....my brain is elsewhere...”

“I suppose the real question is, will your brain be present if we try this again another night?”

Tommy’s mouth opened to respond, but nothing came out at first, leaving a long, awkward pause hovering between them. “I just....it’s not you...”

Caroline laughed. “Oh, I know it isn’t me, darling. I’m attracted to you, and thought we potentially could be a good fit, but there are plenty of other men out there who would be happy to give me their undivided attention.” She patted his hand to show there were no hard feelings. “Whoever she is, I hope she feels the same way about you.”


	2. Two

I've never read the Elizabeth George books (Tommy as a blond?!) but I am a huge fan of the BBC series, and I have borrowed the characters to play with just for fun and no profit to myself. I promise to return them unharmed...I hope you enjoy!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tommy indulged in several double pours of whiskey that night, growing ever more morose as he sat there, reading the same few paragraphs of a novel over and over, the meaning of the words not really sinking in at all. He looked longingly at his collection of single malts, wanting nothing more than to drown his sorrows, but resisted the temptation, and dragged himself up to his bedroom.

Sleep proved to be no escape from his dark thoughts and dreadful mood, however. It took him ages to fall asleep, and when he finally did drift off, he tossed and turned, and his dreams all seemed to involve him searching desperately for his missing sergeant. As night turned into day, his final dream had him find her at long last, but in the arms of another man.

He awoke with a start, his heart racing at the shock of seeing Barbara making love to someone else, green eyes shining for a stranger. As he shaved, the man who stared back at him in the mirror had bags under his eyes and a grim expression.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Lynley’s day did not improve when he arrived at the Met. As he walked to his office, he nodded a greeting to DC Nkata, but Havers was deep in conversation on her phone, and she didn’t acknowledge him. He took it personally, even though his rational mind realized she probably had not seen him.

On his desk, a large stack of paperwork awaited him, and worse yet, his calendar informed him, oh joy of joys, that he was expected to take part in a meeting with all senior officers on next year’s budget later that day. 

There were times when Lynley wondered what the hell he was doing as a Detective Inspector at the Met, and this was definitely one of those days. He barely made a dent in his stack of paperwork before he had to head to the budget meeting. 

In the meeting, he sat toward the back and assumed a neutral expression, although inside he was anything but. Chief Superintendent Hillier’s voice droned on and on, talking about resource allocation, doing more with less, and other even more uninteresting topics. Lynley zoned out by the third power-point slide, only coming back to life at the end of the meeting, and he had to be social with his colleagues. 

“What gives, Lynley? I know this is boring as hell, but you’re completely checked out,” DI Brian Sanderson said.

“Knowing our fancy boy, he’s got woman trouble.” DCI Tony Wells wasn’t exactly known for being politically correct. “Got a couple of birds that just found out about each other, have we? Or is it that feisty little sergeant of yours that’s giving you a hard time, Lynley?”

Tommy’s posture straightened, accentuating how much taller he was than the rather stout, squat Wells. “Just because you can’t get a date without paying for it doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me,” he retorted, making sure his voice had full command of hundreds of years of English nobility, then cutting off any response by walking away.

“Oi, don’t be an arse, mate,” Sanderson told Wells. “Lynley’s all right, he’s just having a shite day. And you’re going to get yourself booted out of here in this “#metoo” day and age, spouting crap like that. Havers is a good copper.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Lynley fumed all the way back to his office, all the more so because even though Wells was a sexist pig and an idiot, he had hit a little too close to the mark about Havers. He paced through the hallways of the Met like a panther, ignoring any and all greetings or smiles of hello.

Neither Nkata nor Havers were at their desks when he reached their area, so he buried himself in his office and pretended to tackle the pile of paperwork at his desk. He made some progress in spite of himself, and emerged somewhat calmer just after five.

“Anything new?” he asked Winnie, who was back at his desk, plugging away at his computer.

“Not a dead body to be found, guv,” Nkata replied cheerfully, his dreadlocks shaking as he shook his head. “I’m just finishing up the paperwork on those robberies, and then I’m calling it a day. Fancy a pint?”

“Where’s Havers?” Lynley asked.

“She left right at 5 o’clock. Said something about a date.”

“A date?! She’s gone already?” Lynley’s voice was raised, and there was no doubt he was angry.

“Well, sir, it was five already, and she was in this morning around 7:30...”

“I don’t care what time she came in, she can’t just leave whenever she...”

“Sir!” Winston interjected. “Permission to speak freely?” He glanced over his shoulder at some of their colleagues, who had definitely taken notice of Lynley’s tone. “Perhaps in your office, where we won’t be overheard?”


	3. Chapter Three

I've never read the Elizabeth George books (Tommy as a blond?!) but I am a huge fan of the BBC series, and I have borrowed the characters to play with just for fun and no profit to myself. I promise to return them unharmed...I hope you enjoy!

Thanks for all the lovely reviews, everyone, and my apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. Real life is very time consuming on occasion! There is more to come, I promise!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tommy stared at Winston for a moment, then turned on his heel and stalked into his office. Once there, he leaned against his desk, crossing his arms across his chest, his body language and expression grim.

“Right then, Constable, let’s have it. What do you have to say to me that couldn’t be said out there?”

“Look, sir, you can’t go off on Barbara just because she left on time for once, and because she has a date. She doesn’t have to answer to you about her personal life. She works with you, and you’re mates, but she doesn’t belong to you,” Winston said, standing his ground in front of his boss.

“My relationship with Sergeant Havers is none of your business.”

“With all due respect, sir, it is. She is my friend, and I’ve watched you take advantage of her loyalty to you for years. You do whatever you like, but then when you need her, she’s always there. You expect her to be at your beck and call, and it’s not fair.” 

Lynley stared at Nkata for a long moment - painfully long for the younger man - then, with a big sigh, walked around his desk to sit down heavily in his office chair.

“All right, Winston, I see your point to some degree, even if I don’t agree with everything you’ve said,” Tommy admitted, gesturing for him to sit in the chair across from the desk. “So who is she going out with anyway? I can’t help it, I worry.”

Winston returned his gaze for a moment, weighing his options, then sat down. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Jack is actually a mate of mine, someone I went to school with. She met him one night when we went out for a pint after work. He’s a good bloke, and he really likes her. She seems to like him as well.”

“So tell me about your friend Jack,” Lynley invited. He leaned forward, forearms on his desk, as if to welcome Nkata’s confidence.

Winnie smiled at him, but it was a smile that didn’t light up his brown eyes. “I’m not a witness, or a criminal you’re investigating, Detective Inspector. I’m also not an idiot, and I know you’re just trying to suss out the competition because you’re jealous. If you want Barbara, you should go for it, but you should tell her, not go after a perfectly nice chap who likes her and isn’t afraid to tell her so.”

Tommy sat back in his chair, thrown off guard by the directness of the statement.

“Nice chat, sir. I’m off home now, I reckon.” Winston’s amused look spoke volumes, and he stood to leave. “Have a good evening!”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After Winston left, Tommy stood by the window in his office, watching the sky grow dark and having quite the heart-to-heart with himself. At first, he was furious with Nkata - how dare he say such things to a superior officer! - but the longer he thought about it, he more realized some hard truths.

He did regard Barbara Havers as “his.” He did tend to take her for granted. From their very first case, she had given him her complete loyalty, even though he hadn’t always deserved it. She had seen him through bouts of heavy drinking, questionable affairs, and accusations of professional misconduct, and had never asked for a thing in return.

For his own part, Lynley had to admit that his attempts at - call it friendship, for lack of a better term - had been heavy handed at best. He had her flat painted without consulting her first. He dragged her to upscale gastropubs when she craved simple fish and chips. He tracked her down when she was assigned elsewhere, unwilling to let her work with someone else. Why? Because he was afraid of losing her, afraid that she would realize she was better off without him.

He cringed when he remembered the night he showed up unannounced at her doorstep when he felt at loose ends, craving her companionship, but not really understanding why. The talk they had that night, the one about having a reason to get up in the morning, to keep going, well....it was the truth, that conversation, but it wasn’t the whole truth, was it?

The sky is fully dark, and the city lights twinkle in the night air outside his office window, but he doesn’t really see them as he stares out, remembering all the thousands of little moments with Havers. The endless banter between them as they drive to a case, her soft blush when he compliments her in any way, her sitting with him on that hilltop after he buried his wife...and the worst moments, the agonizing ones, when Barbara was shot, and again when she was held hostage in that pub...

Lynley’s gut clenches as he relives those nightmares, the times he almost lost her, and as he remembers how he felt at those moments, he realizes that he loves her, and has loved her for quite a while.


	4. Chapter 4

I've never read the Elizabeth George books, but I am a huge fan of the BBC series, and I have borrowed the characters to play with just for fun and no profit to myself. I promise to return them unharmed...I hope you enjoy!

I appreciate all the lovely reviews – every word you write is an incentive to me to continue the story. By the way, I am imagining this story in a slightly different AU, one where Lynley and Havers are the same age, but the whole thing is taking place now - you will understand this when you read about certain computer searches that take place.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Lynley’s realization that he loved Barbara Havers weighed heavily on him as he drove home in the dark to his flat. Acknowledging his feelings was one thing, acting on that knowledge was something else again. There were a million reasons why they shouldn’t be together. Not a single one of those reasons mattered to him, but he knew his prickly sergeant would throw each and every one of those reasons in his face.

He smiled wryly to himself as he unlocked the dark, deserted flat, imagining her full-throated protests objecting to any hearts-and-flowers declaration from him. Tommy the Ponce loves Havers the Emotional Hedgehog, and never the twain shall meet. He laughed at himself, then sighed deeply, and dumped his coat and briefcase on the table in the foyer.

Stepping into his study, he headed straight for the liquor cabinet, then hesitated for a moment as he eyed the selection of single-malts. He decided on the Lagavulin 16yr., craving something not too tame. Tommy poured the deep amber liquid - nectar of the gods, surely - over ice, and sank deeply into one of his leather chairs.

He sipped, and contemplated, savoring the peaty, smoky flavor of the scotch. Barbara would bolt if he approached her directly, of that he was sure. Iodine, sea salt, leather...so what was the answer? He felt at a disadvantage. Most women threw themselves at him, and he was not unaware of his appeal to the opposite sex. 

Although, thinking back, perhaps there was a pattern....Deborah had resisted his attentions, ultimately choosing Simon instead. Helen had not exactly jumped into his arms, and it had not ended well. He still felt horribly guilty about Helen, because, perhaps, he had pushed her into the marriage, manipulating her feelings after her disastrous split with Rhys Davies Jones...

Lynley poured himself another glass of the Lagavulin, then sank deeper into the leather chair. Truth be told, he was shite at relationships, only good for one night stands. The one constant for the past ten-plus years of his life was Barbara. She had stuck with him, regardless of the consequences, through thick and thin...he drained his glass and looked at the liquor cabinet. He sighed, but set the glass down, and headed up the stairs to bed. He had things to do tomorrow.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

The next morning, Lynley was in the office early, working through the paperwork on his desk with a vengeance, ready to clear some time to deal with what he was beginning to think of as the “Barbara situation.”

He heard her arrive through his office door, chatting with Nkata and the other police officers nearby, and her voice sounded happy and cheerful, despite the monotonous paperwork he knew was on her desk at the moment. His jealousy flared up, imagining her happiness was due to what’s-his-name. Jack.

Lynley finished his paperwork in record time, then turned his attention to the Havers problem at hand. Nkata’s file first - it would have all of his schooling details in it. A few clicks had the details up on his screen; he was Winston’s superior, after all. Easy enough. Once he had the name of the school, everything was accessible online, thanks to the wonders of the modern Internet.

Tommy’s fingers scrolled through the data. Jack...Jack...Jack...and there it was, easy as that, not even any nicknames to sort through. Jack Casey. His school photo matched what Lynley could recall of the man he had seen with Barbara at that restaurant, well enough, at least, accounting for the years since school.

So, Google to the rescue. What has Jack Casey been up to since his school days? Lynley is a bit shocked at the number of results that pop up on his screen.. Apparently Mr. Casey is a bit more than initially meets the eye...

“Headed out for some lunch. Want some?” Lynley looked up, feeling a bit guilty for some reason. Barbara looked back at him, innocent, unsuspecting. “Sir? Lunch?”

Tommy snapped out of it, shaking his head in response. “No, I’m good, thanks.” Havers nodded, starting to turn away, and he speaks before he thinks. “Fancy a drink later? At the end of the day?”

Barbara’s smile back at him is like the best Christmas present ever. “Great. See you then.”

Lynley watched her leave, focused on her arse as she walks away, the swing of her hips, turned on by it, but also appalled by his reaction to her at the same time. Surely love should be on some higher plane, like it was with Deborah, or even Helen, not a jolt to both his heart and his body at the same time.

Tommy turned his attention back to the computer, drilling down into the data on Jack Casey. A picture soon begins to emerge, and his heart sinks lower and lower as he reads the information. The man is a genius: developed a smartphone app right out of secondary school, turned it into a multi-million pound company, the IPO was a huge success. 

Casey also gives back: donations to a variety of worthwhile charities, a foundation that gives scholarships to worthy students from the neighbourhood where he and Winston Nkata grew up. A couple of long term relationships with worthwhile women, and no salacious gossip about him; he’s a fucking saint, according to the Internet.

The man is perfect, and Lynley, for once in his life, feels like second-hand goods. Jack Casey is younger, highly intelligent, rich, a “good bloke,” as Nkata phrased it. He’s even good-looking. Casey likes Barbara Havers, and she likes him. Tommy should leave well enough alone, shouldn’t he?

“Ready for a drink?” Barbara’s question startled Tommy out of his despair, and his frown disappeared as he looks up at her.

“Of course,” he replies. “Let’s go.”


	5. Chapter 5

I've never read the Elizabeth George books, but I am a huge fan of the BBC series, and I have borrowed the characters to play with just for fun and no profit to myself. I promise to return them unharmed...I hope you enjoy!

I do apologize for the very long wait between chapters. I had foot surgery, and was hoping it would leave me lots of time for writing...alas, two days after the surgery, I fell down the stairs and broke my right hand. Yes, I am right-handed, and as much as I love you all, and Lynley and Havers, I just wasn’t up to hunting and pecking with one hand. Also, crutches and stairs are not a good mix! #lifelessons

Once again, many thanks to all of you reading the story, and leaving reviews. And now, for the next installment of As The Met Turns...

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Lynley followed Barbara out of the building, feeling a bit - he honestly wasn’t sure what he was. Tense, tongue-tied, unsure what to say to the woman you’ve spent more time with than anyone else in the past decade. 

Havers was her usual self, grousing about paperwork, lamenting the lack of fresh murders to investigate, complaining that Hadi kept trying to give her a makeover now that she was a teenager and had such strong opinions about such things. And all the while, Tommy felt as though the rug had been pulled out from under his feet, leaving him free-falling.

“Policeman’s local will do for a quick one tonight, yeah?” Barbara didn’t wait for an answer, just pulled open the door to the pub, and Lynley realized he had followed her the three blocks to the place nearest the Met offices without paying any attention to where he was going. Although, that applied to his life as well: he would follow her anywhere, trusted her completely. It was himself he didn’t trust at the moment.

“I’ll get this round,” Lynley said when they found a table. He wanted a minute up at the bar to compose himself. Think of what to say. How to say it.

“I’ll have a pint of their finest, then, if you’re buying. Chips as well, please.”

Lynley nodded, and stepped up to the bar. After placing their order, he stood there, staring into space, his fingers tapping a nervous tattoo on the worn old wood. To tell her or not to tell her, that was the question. And if you tell her, how on earth to go about doing so. 

She was his best friend, and he didn’t want to change that for the world. But now there was this new element to their relationship, on his side at least, this awareness of her as a woman. Or perhaps it wasn’t so new, after all, he decided. Perhaps it had been there for a long time, lurking in the shadows of his heart, only brought to the fore by the green-eyed monster of his jealousy.

He sighed, and carried the drinks back to their table. Havers was texting someone, and he hated himself for wondering who was receiving the message. She looked up at him and smiled, and Tommy found himself studying her face. Her hair was longer now than it used to be, falling down past her shoulders, but the high cheekbones and determined chin were as they had always been. And her eyes, those enormous eyes that could see right through him...

“What?! Do I have ink on my face or something? What are you staring at?”

“I - I was just thinking that you look nice today,” he explained, wincing internally as he said it. So smooth, Lynley. That will win her over for sure.

Her cheeks flushed with color, and she opened her mouth to respond, but the order of chips arrived just then. In the fuss over serviettes and salt, vinegar and flatware, the moment began to slip away, and then was done in completely by the arrival of Stuart Lafferty.

“Hiya! No one told me that the Met Murder Mutual Admiration Society was meeting this evening,” the pathologist said, tucking his helmet under his arm.

“That will teach you to read memos from now on,” Barbara laughed. “Get yourself a pint, and join us.”

Lynley smiled briefly in response, but inside he chafed at Stuart’s arrival interrupting his time with Barbara. He stared daggers at the unsuspecting path man as he stashed his protective gear under the table before heading to the bar.

“That’s lucky, running into Stu. It’s been ages since we’ve seen him. Not enough murders these days, are there?”

Lynley smiled at her joke, even though he could not have disagreed more about the degree of luck involved in running into Lafferty. Obviously tonight was not going to work for any heart-to-heart conversation with her, even if he could come up with any words to express his feelings. You know Barbara better than any other woman you’ve ever gone after, and yet here you are, tongue-tied as a school boy. Get your wits about you, man!

Tommy opened his mouth, but nothing came out, as if his brain and tongue were no longer connected. Lafferty returned with his drink before the pause grew too long, launching immediately into the kind of “company” gossip all large organizations thrive on, leaving Lynley to lean back in his seat and try to collect his thoughts.

“So, did you hear about Bryant hosing up that case down at the docks? Silly bugger wasn’t wearing gloves, and he picked up a crow bar to poke around in some empty crates at the scene. Turns out that piece of metal looks like it’s the murder weapon, and his grimy prints are all over it. Who knows what else he messed up on that one. I’m just glad it wasn’t my case.”

“Oh, god, now we’ll have a round of endless emails from Hillier about the ‘sanctity of crime scenes’ as if we all don’t already know it,” Barbara replied. The two of them carried on in the same vein, and Lynley’s attention drifted off even though he pretended to be engaged in the conversation.

His attention was pulled back to the scene at hand by a man’s hands grabbing Barbara’s shoulders and leaning in. Tommy found himself half out of his chair, in full caveman defense mode, adrenaline coursing through him, before he realized that Havers was greeting the fellow enthusiastically. 

“Jack! You’re early!”

“Well, I finished my meeting ahead of time, and you had texted me where you were, so I thought I would surprise you.” He ran his hand through his dark blonde hair, and sank into the chair next to Barbara. “Good surprise?”

“The best! Jack, I’d like you to meet Stuart Lafferty and Thomas Lynley, my co-workers – and friends. Well, DI Lynley is also my boss. This is Jack Casey.” Havers’ cheeks flushed pink as she did the introductions.

“Surely we’re friends first and foremost, Barbara,” Lynley said, then turned and extended his hand toward Casey. Toward the enemy. 

Casey met his gaze and extended his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“Well, you have the advantage over me.” Lynley’s voice turned extra silky and smooth, the caveman now contained, but only just barely. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard of you at all.”

Barbara’s face turned from lightly flushed to entirely beet red, but Lafferty took pity on her and stepped in, extending his hand in greeting.

“So another round for all concerned?”

“Actually, we have dinner reservations,” Casey said, looking down at Havers. “Ready, Barbara?”

“Yeah, sure.” She grabbed her bag, then turned toward Lynley. “See you Monday?”

“As always,” Lynley replied. He smiled, but the expression did not reach his eyes. “Have a good weekend.”

As the couple walked out of the crowded pub, Barbara turned back once to look at Lynley, and he had to restrain himself from chasing after her.

“Well now, that was interesting. And don’t think you’re getting out of here without an explanation. Another round?”

Lynley sank back into his chair, resigning himself to the conversation with Lafferty. “Yes, fine. Single malt. Make it a double.”


End file.
